


Like Clockwork

by Transistance



Series: Incompatible [6]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexuality, F/M, Internalized Acephobia, Self-Hatred, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 08:04:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4557003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Transistance/pseuds/Transistance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Silence is a gateway to all sorts of detrimental thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Clockwork

Broken broken broken broken _broken_.

_No, don't do this. Not now. I have a week's worth of paperwork to get through and then a meeting; I don't have time to think about this. Not that it matters anyway, at all._

_Broken_ , his mind persisted. _Broken broken broken_.

He had been fully aware that getting emotionally involved with a colleague was a bad idea, under any circumstances. It should have been obvious to anyone that if that individual happened to be Grell Sutcliff then things would be infinitely worse.

Not that it had Sutcliff's fault. It had been Sutcliff who had triggered the realization, certainly, and Sutcliff who had pegged him to a word describing a state he hadn't known existed. It had been Sutcliff who had crawled over him that night and found him to be broken.

Not that that had ever been stated, not explicitly. The word _broken_ had never been spat at him by anyone other than his own mind, and perhaps never would be. But it didn't matter – he knew what he was, even if those around him didn't. Even if they couldn't break the barrier of politeness to release their honest thoughts on the subject, it mattered not, because the conclusion could be reached without outside intervention.

Broken. Utterly, irreparably wrong. The word rattled about his head like a loose screw, disjointed and unwelcome, and he wished that the situation had never arisen that it had to be used to describe him.

It wasn't as though reapers were exactly a good model to work on for perfection. Poorly made replicas of humanity, a shed skin existing only to serve its former body. Individuals who were either paper-thin or burned too bright, given too much life for a hollow existence; filled with an undeniable vitality and intensity that drove them to distraction so much more easily than their mortal counterparts. Whether that distraction was drugs or alcohol or love or lust or simple bloody murder depended on the individual.

His, unfortunately, tended to manifest itself almost purely in the form of physical violence. But that was okay, because it could be worn out without too much hassle and was only directed at other people if his temper snapped. Most reapers were violent to a greater or lesser degree. The violence wasn't a problem, not now. Not anymore.

Not that the sexuality was a problem either, of course. It wasn't. It hadn't been a problem for any of his short immortal years and it wasn't a problem now.

_But how on earth can you..._ Not _want to have sex? Not with anyone? God, man... I feel sorry for you, honestly._

He was ad-libbing words into an external mouth in a stupid attempt to not hear them from his own. _Prepare yourself for the worst,_ his mentor had always said, _because it'll come whether you're prepared or not_. He wondered if this situation could be considered the worst.

 _No_ , he told himself. _No, I have a good position in a good job with good... With decent colleagues and superiors and even a romantic partner, for crying out loud. I am doing well._

_But you're not good enough for him- her... for Grell, though, are you? And you never will be because you never can be, not if you can't even follow through with an act that every other man on this bloody planet seems to find great pleasure in._

He didn't even know if he had feelings for her – knowing this about himself, how could he? Perhaps what he felt was only the selfish, carnal desire to not be alone. He enjoyed the physical sensation of her body against his, whether through their hands or lips or the proximity given from being curled up beside one another, but he hated watching her move. He loved the sound of her voice, masculine as it was, but not the words she spoke. He wanted her to be safe, and was happier if she was happy, but more often than not despised her very presence.

And then there was the _revulsion_. The sheer, utterly overwhelming sense of absolute disgust toward the mere thought of being beside her with any intent toward her body, that sick pit below his stomach that _crawled_ when he caught the lust in her eyes. Sometimes she hid it and sometimes she did not, but it was always there, smouldering, and it always had been. And it had never, ever been a problem before, because he had never noticed it.

_God, you're a mess._

Paperwork. There was paperwork to be done, forms to be filled out, write-ups to be completed in the time that the clock on the wall informed him was rapidly trickling away. _At least you can do that well. It's about the only thing you can, isn't it? You're useless in personal terms._ Lack _of sexuality,_ lack _of romanticisms,_ lack _of feelings. You might as well be dead._

_Shut up, shut up;_ he was trying to work.  _Might as well_ be _clockwork, because you're sure as hell not flesh and blood. What makes you tick, Spears? You're a reaper, not a machine; you're not meant to run on the restraints of how much ink needs to be scrawled over a page. Just another flawed miracle – just another broken cog._

_Tick, tick, tick. It'd be easier to bed a desk rather than another living being. Tick, tick, tick. That's not normal. Tick, tock._

_You're broken._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Went for a desk as an example of something you absolutely couoldn't sleep with, but I realize now that there are probably steamy WillXdesk fics _somewhere_ on the web. So please don't take it as a sign that Will is sexually attracted to furniture.


End file.
